Captain and columnist Cracker Jacked

Sunday

Aug 31, 2008 at 2:00 AM

Life's small changes are the worst. You know, like when your favorite pizza place changes its sauce or when your grocery store of choice stops carrying your favorite type of spicy beef jerky. Yeah, those are the kind of changes can be major bummers.

Mike Sullivan

Life's small changes are the worst. You know, like when your favorite pizza place changes its sauce or when your grocery store of choice stops carrying your favorite type of spicy beef jerky. Yeah, those are the kind of changes can be major bummers.

Remember Cracker Jacks? Sure you do. In fact, "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" is probably playing in your mind as you read this. Little rectangle boxes filled with molasses-coated popcorn and peanuts, along with the much-anticipated mystery prize. What's not to love?

The label tells us the snack is actually called "Cracker Jack," but folks on the street are using the plural "Cracker Jacks." For the purposes of literary accuracy and out of respect for Bingo the dog (who appears on the package with Sailor Jack) we'll go with Cracker Jack.

Well, this ain't your childhood Cracker Jack anymore, and Portsmouth Police Capt. David "Lou" Ferland experienced this firsthand recently. As a hard-working civil servant, the Port City's good captain certainly earns the right to indulge in a tasty snack now and again. When he seeks out a snack, he occasionally goes for the Cracker Jack, and, of course, the toy surprise inside each box or bag.

Ferland happened to be taking a trip to Yankee Stadium recently to meet up with some friends from Mississippi. Ferland, mind you, is not a Yankees fan, but did want to visit the historic stadium once before it closes and is torn down after this season. Easy does it, Yankee-haters, there's nothing wrong with having respect for baseball history, even if you are from Red Sox Country.

A couple of Ferland's Mississippi mates have boys ages 9 and 12, and as Yankees fans they were excited for the trip. They were also excited about this snack called Cracker Jack that Uncle Capt. Lou had been chatting up.

"So there we were, 14 of us in the family section and the vendor came through selling Cracker Jack," Ferland recalled. "It was the fourth inning and suddenly the song was in my head, 'buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack,' and it sounded good."

That's where the happiness and nostalgia ended, folks.

Capt. Ferland was Cracker Jacked.

"First of all, you don't get any peanuts until you get to the bottom of the bag, and you only get six of them," Ferland said.

And then the toy surprise? There was none. He said there was just a slip of paper with a code to enter online to then type in and redeem for some sort of prize.

"I was a little disappointed for the boys," Ferland said. "I was making it out to be this big thing. I remember years ago the prize would be a little secret decoder ring, or a toy of some kind, or a baseball card. I guess those days are gone."

Indeed. Prior to hearing of Ferland's plight, this hungry writer was Cracker Jacked while buying a snack at Joe's Meat Shoppe in North Hampton. Joe's, mind you, is a delightful little store. They have all the greatest snacks of yesterday and today, and a variety of other items as well. You have to respect any place with a slogan that reads, "You can't beat our meat."

Some people go to Joe's for the unbeatable meats. Others go for the sandwiches at lunchtime. I go for the snacks, and oftentimes one in particular — Cracker Jack.

You can still find Cracker Jack in boxes at the grocery store, but if you're at a convenience store — including Joe's — they usually come in plastic bags. Kind of a bummer, but hey, still the same, sweet, snack treat.

Or so we've been led to believe.

Cracker Jack is apparently weathering a peanut famine because at the bottom of a 3 3/8-ounce bag, there were only 16 peanuts waiting for me — much better than Ferland's six, mind you. Making it worse, they were tiny, little peanuts. Munchkin peanuts. Mini peanuts.

As Ferland reminds us, "You can't even get peanuts on an airplane anymore."

Tru dat, brother.

Now bear in mind that a peanut is heavier than a piece of popcorn so you have to expect they have made their way to the bottom of the bag. But when you get to the bottom of a bag and there are hardly any there, it's just cruel and unusual.

On a return trip to Joe's a couple days later another bag was purchased, this time a 4 1/4-ounce pouch. I tore it open right away to count my peanuts — it was all very exciting — and there were 21.5. Yep, couldn't even complete that 22nd peanut.

I felt cheated. I wasn't getting the full Cracker Jack effect that I had from my childhood and this bagged snack was supposed to be my superhighway to nostalgia.

No dice, though. No toy surprise, either, just a little piece of paper with some biographical information on Susan B. Anthony and four perforated pieces of her head that you are supposed to put together like a puzzle. I know; what kid would want a secret decoder ring or a baseball card when you can reconstruct Susan B. Anthony's head? Yahoo!

Cracker Jack needs to get back to basics, get some legit prizes in the package and, above all else, beef up the peanut count. A couple of kids from Mississippi are counting on it.

Mike Sullivan is a Seacoast Sunday columnist. His column appears every week, and you can also read him Mondays in Portsmouth Herald Sports. Sullivan can be reached at sullywrites@comcast.net.

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